


Tenth Doctor/Reader

by caitrudd



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Psychic Bond, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25221769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitrudd/pseuds/caitrudd
Summary: Reader helps the Doctor to calm down while he's having a rough time. Wrote this after watching Journey's End so had the Tenth Doctor in mind, although it could work for any of them, I'm not specific.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor & Original Character(s), Tenth Doctor & Reader, Tenth Doctor/Original Character(s), Tenth Doctor/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Tenth Doctor/Reader

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider following my twitter! It's @pastelspindash :) i hope you enjoy!

I hear the Doctor screaming, sobbing, throwing things and clearing shelves with a sweep of his hand. For five minutes I lie there in my room, trying to block it out, until the guilt and pity becomes too strong. When I arrive at the Doctor's room and open the door, the sight before me breaks my heart. Papers are scattered across the floor, written in the Doctor's messy Gallifreyan handwriting. I'm proud to say I understood some of it - notes on English literature, equations, drawings. Sheet music lays haphazardly around the floor, although there's no piano in the room - it's too small for that. Books of all colours and sizes, most of them old and dusty, and ornaments, gadgets, are scattered everywhere, bedsheets askew and work desk toppled, the Doctor stands in the middle of the mess. His whole face is bright pink, eyes glassy and hot tears streaming down his face. There is blood on his bottom lip where he had obviously bitten it, his whole body shaking violently. He's holding a simple wooden chair that he was evidently about to hurl at the wall, crimson pillow fallen at his feet. I had only been in his room once before, and it was messy at the best of times, but still beautiful. Even now, in a complete tip, there's still something gorgeous about it.

He goes silent when I enter, his face blank as he processes something. Then his usually kind eyes flash with uncontrollable anger and embarrassment as he throws the chair at me and yells in his mother tongue, voice high and painful to listen to. I don't understand it, but I don't need a translation to know that they're all curses. I scuttle out of the door in fright, my feet skidding before the chair can connect with my face, and I hear it thump against the wood a second later, followed by a clicking sound as the Doctor locks the door.

He begins muttering to the Tardis, and it occurs to me then that he had probably instructed her to not let me hear him, or to keep me away. The Tardis, of course, didn't listen, and led me straight to him. We both know he's not very good on his own. I smile gratefully at the ceiling of the corridor, and when I turn the handle of the Doctor's room again it creaks open, despite being locked a moment ago. 

The Doctor is on the floor this time, legs pulled up to his chin as he sobs quietly onto his knees. He looks up when I enter again.  
"Get out." He mumbles, barely audible. When I don't leave, he tries again, raising his voice suddenly and yelling in frustration, his voice cracking as he screams. I stride over to him and pull him to his feet, my face stern and unmoving, despite my heart breaking for him. He attempts to bat me away, unsuccessfully. 

I grab his waist with both hands and press my forehead to his, filling my mind with calming thoughts and reassurances, sending them to the Doctor. I feel his tense form slowly relax as I continue, his shoulders slumping and his hands falling to his sides, melting into me.

We stand like that for at least five minutes, until the Doctor lifts his hands to my waist and squeezes gratefully, keeping his forehead pressed to mine.

"Thank you." He says quietly, the first time either of us had physically spoken. I open my eyes to see that he's staring at me, some sort of internal debate happening as he looks from my eyes to my mouth. Fortunately, with our heads still pressed together, I can tell exactly what he's thinking.

Before I can respond, he makes his decision and closes the gap between us. My eyes widen in complete surprise, his lips soft and gentle, only lasting for a second, but god, he's a brilliant kisser.

When he pulls away, his mouth twists up into a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it's a step in the right direction. I raise my hand from his waist to wipe a stray tear from his cheek.

I return his smile. 

"You're welcome." I respond, pulling him in again.


End file.
